The Ninth Crime
by cacamilis
Summary: "And now, his ninth crime. He looked into Derek's wide, honest, beautiful chocolate brown eyes, despondent under the knowledge that all too soon, he wouldn't have the chance."


**A/N: Yet another song inspired oneshot, guys. :) I warn ye now, this is not a happy ending fic. I was on YouTube the other day, listening to "9 Crimes" by Damien Rice and Lisa Hannigan, and the gun metaphor in the lyrics inspired this. Plus, I finally saw Brokeback Mountain today, so the mood came pretty easily (thank you **_**nannily, **_**I am officially in love with that movie)… I shall shut up now. I really hope ye like it, and please leave a review! :)**

**Disclaimer: I clearly do not own Criminal Minds. :(**

"_**Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much more strength to know when to let go and then do it." ― Ann Landers.**_

Five little words.

Five small, blatantly untrue but devastatingly necessary words.

_It's not you, it's me._

That one, short, heartbreaking sentence plunged a knife into Spencer's heart, making it impossibly difficult to breathe as he watched Derek's lips move, barely hearing a sound.

He had seen this situation coming a long time ago. He'd done his utmost best to ignore them, but his profiler's instincts had whispered in his ear every time there had been a sign, a miniscule indication.

He had pretended to be asleep every time Derek got up at 2AM to go and drink the night away in a dive bar. He knew that Derek had never been unfaithful to him, but he seen the stamp of misery in every one of his boyfriend's most minute movements as he dressed quietly and slipped out of the darkened room.

He had said it was fine by him every time Derek had cancelled a date. He had been understanding and agreed to re-schedule each and every time, pretending not to notice that most of their postponed plans got cancelled too.

He hadn't argued on the nights a text arrived to his phone informing him that Derek would be staying late at work to finish writing up files, or train FBI cadets in self defence. He had assured himself that Derek was just swamped with the extra case reports he was doing for Hotch, and that it was ultimately inconsequential.

He'd written it off as increased stress due to work when Derek had started spending even more time than usual at the gym, extending his morning runs and spending his entire lunch hour lifting weights. He'd even managed to convince himself that it was a good thing, since the increased exercise would lower the other man's risk of heart disease, a potentially fatal and overwhelmingly prolific problem in males over 40.

He had smiled and pretended to be fine on every occasion that Derek had downed too many beers and spent the night flirting. The rest of the team believed them to be extremely secure in their relationship, so much so that Spencer didn't mind when Derek chatted up women, and even men, on a rare night that the BAU let their hair down.

He'd been sure to act as if he hadn't noticed when Derek had stopped playing the piano. He used to never be able to walk past it without brushing his fingers over the keys, and now the lid sat closed, gathering dust. It had sat untouched, a sombre, dark monument to their predicament for over two months. It had been something they both loved, Derek, because it was such a natural form of joy for him, and Spencer, because there was a certain beauty to watching his partner's fingers dance over the keys and weave a kaleidoscope of colour into the air.

He had refused to take offence at the increasingly frequent nights on which Derek slept on Garcia's couch. She and Kevin had recently split up, and Derek was clearly just being a good companion and staying with her to provide support and comfort to a distraught friend. Clearly.

When their sex life had dwindled, he'd made excuses. It was extremely common for the male libido to decrease significantly as a man approached middle age, he'd assured himself. He'd avoided thinking about the difference between their current sexual encounters and the ones from the beginning of their relationship. Their recent endeavours had been little more than a convenient source of physical release, compared to the days they had spent lying in bed talking, touching, just _exploring_ each other's bodies only a few months before.

And now, his ninth crime.

He looked into Derek's wide, honest, beautiful chocolate brown eyes, despondent under the knowledge that all too soon, he wouldn't have the chance.

"I'm sorry." Spencer forced his voice to sound out clear and strong. "But this relationship, _us,_ it just isn't working for me. It's way too much pressure. We see each other, quite literally, every second of the day."

Derek nodded slowly, swallowing hard. "What are you saying?"

Spencer forced himself to ignore the lump in his throat. He'd have more than enough time to weep and scream later. "I love you, Derek, more than you'll ever know. But I have to do what's right for me. I put in for a transfer to the Special Victims' Unit in Vegas. I'm moving back there to be near my mom, and I promise I'll have moved all my stuff out by the end of next week."

Spencer wouldn't allow himself to keep his eyes on anything but Derek, drinking in every detail. He watched as a single tear fell, inwardly dying. He felt numb and disconnected as he crossed the room to the man he so loved, savouring his embrace one last time.

He would miss this unbearably. The simple security of having someone who understood him and cared unconditionally. Despite the growing rift in their relationship, he knew beyond doubt that Derek still loved him deeply. But he felt trapped by his commitment to Spencer, and was scared of the immense pressure that went with loving someone he was never away from. So Spencer had taken the high road, offering him the way out he so desperately sought without forcing his love to be the perpetrator. It was the lesser of two evils, really. They could stay together, and each pretend to be satisfied and fulfilled by their hollow relationship, or they could accept that the once beautiful understanding and bond between them had passed.

Glistening rivers ran their course down Spencer's face when he felt Derek press a kiss to his hair, a gesture he'd missed sorely. "I love you, Pretty Boy. So much." He breathed.

Their last kiss was bitter, filled with regret for the way life had forced them apart, for the time they had wasted pretending. The flavour of each other mingled with the salty taste of tears that flowed freely. When the need for air became too great, they reluctantly broke apart, leaning their foreheads together, unable to look away from each other's anguished eyes.

"I have to go." Spencer whispered.

He broke away, sure that if he didn't leave right at that moment, then he would never be able to gather the strength to.

He held himself together with an iron composure as he left their apartment, refusing to let Derek see just how broken and shattered he was. If he broke down, Derek would see right through him, and they would return to their endless cycle of unhappiness and pretending.

No, it was for the best. For both of them.

**A/N: I've never done anything like this before, so reviews would be hugely appreciated. :)**


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